


Of Starks and Blue-Eyed Sparks

by malaguenas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bartender Dean, Fluff, M/M, Me trying to make references to harry potter despite never reading it lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:51:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malaguenas/pseuds/malaguenas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The coffee shop was where Dean found his solace, that is, until a stranger stirred up his world, and all with the simple order of a mocha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Starks and Blue-Eyed Sparks

**Author's Note:**

> Castiel is kinda end!verse-y in this so that's why it's tagged as such. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Dean closed his eyes and breathed in the strong caffeinated aroma. He felt so calm, at peace. The coffee shop-Roadhouse Coffee-was practically silent save for the routine soft clinking of equipment behind the counter and the barely audible sound of his fingers grazing the pages of the thick book in his hands.

He always came here at this time. Everyone else in town was working their asses off during the day, with no time to drink anything other than their stale bitter brews.

Dean himself sometimes doubted the appeal of his own evening job, but once he settled down here in the coffee shop, he suddenly was the epitome of grateful.

That was, until one certain cocky son of a bitch decided to walk right in.

“Can I get a white chocolate mocha?” The interloper said to the barista in a voice so rough, Dean wasn’t completely sure if he might wake up with razor burns.

He didn’t dare open his eyes to sneak a peek though. Before he knew it, this guy would be gone without much of a trace-

“To stay by the way,” the man gruffed and Dean frowned deeply.

Sure, he didn’t own the place, but hardly anyone came in around this time, much less decided to stay.

Dean had no idea what was up with the stranger waiting across the room, but he really wasn’t eager to find out.

He opened his eyes and focused solely on his book, the third in the Game of Thrones series.

_It’s just you Winchester. You and the tragic stories of the Stark family. This is just another Tuesday afternoon. Just you, your coffee and-_

Dean could hear the chair on the other side of the table screech against the hardwood floor and before he knew it, the stranger had folded his hands near the middle of the table around a steaming cup of coffee.

And if that wasn’t weird enough already, Dean was beyond unprepared for what came out of the stranger’s mouth.

“So would you say that you're more into a partner in crime or someone who's into nurse role-play and light domination?” The stranger questioned.

“What?” Dean asked, with a slight shake of his head.

The man leaned back in his chair and brought his hands closer to his side of the table. A small smirk was playing around the corner of his lips.

“Would you, say that you’re into a a partner in crime, or someone who is into nurse role-play and light domination?” The stranger repeated.

Dean just continued to stare at the guy, stunned as ever. What kind of opening line _was_ that?!

“Do you normally ask that kind of stuff to strangers?” Dean inquired, his speaking tone taking a much deeper pitch than usual.

“Uh no.” The man grinned. “But it got your attention did it not?”

Dean raised his eyebrows in agreement. That man was right about that. It got Dean on his toes and, unfortunately enough, out of his blissful state.

“Fair enough,” Dean grumbled, opting at last to observe his predator.

The man was tan and had more than an obvious speckle of stubble on his face. He stared back at Dean in a way that was quite frankly unheard of. Here, a complete stranger was peering at Dean with a pair of piercing blue eyes that wanted something, something that Dean just couldn’t place.

“So,” Dean started, quickly glancing down at his book, his page still saved with a finger. “Do you always decide to terrify strangers by asking those types of questions or am I just a special case?” He added a fabricated smile at the end.

The other man sat still for a bit, moving only his arms to cross them across his chest. “You intrigue me,” He said at last.

“You don’t know me,” Dean snapped back.

That’s when the man breaked into a full grin and gracefully stuck his hand into his pocket, pulling out a driver's license.

As the man twirled it around in his fingers, Dean realized just whose driver’s license it was. It was his.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean practically screamed, frantically checking his pockets for any other stolen items.

“Dean Winchester…” Said the stranger, eyeing the license.

He sighed and then turned his eyes back to Dean. “Don’t worry, I’ll give everything back.”

Dean fumed. “Well why’d you take it in the first place?”

The man shrugged. “Like I said, you intrigue me.”

“Well this isn’t the way to show it!” Dean growled.

The man closed his eyes. “Yeah, probably not. But you know what Dean? It’s just how I roll.”

“How you roll.” Dean said doubtedly.

“Yes.” The man agreed flatly, opening his eyes to meet Dean’s.

It was only a beat before Dean chuckled and threw his hands up into the air. “You’re insane,” he said statedly as he stood up, reaching to grab his book and get the hell out of there.

But, before he could sneak away, a hand grabbed his own, and slightly callused fingers wrapped gently around his wrist.

“Wait.” Dean stopped and met the stranger’s gaze out of courtesy more than anything else.

“That was probably not the best foot to start out on, in retrospect,” The stranger continued.

“You think?” Dean snapped back bitterly.

The man nodded his agreement and gestured towards the seat Dean sat in not moments before. Dean gave in and sat down again, cautiously. His eyes never leaving the strangers’.

“Hi. I’m Castiel Novak, and you interest me. You love black coffee and fantasy novels and some God damned piece and quiet,” Castiel stated matter of factly.

“How-” Castiel stopped Dean’s sentence with a raise of his hand.

“You may not realize it Winchester, being all wrapped up in your world of Westeros and what not, but I come to this coffee shop almost as often as you,” Castiel replied. Dean was in a state of shock. He really could have sworn he’d never seen the man in his life before today.

“Oh, and isn’t Sansa such a Hufflepuff?” Castiel added, cocking his head to the side and breaking into a huge smile.

Dean dropped his barriers, thankful for the different turn the conversation was taking, and smiled back. “Nah man, I’ve always considered her more of a Ravenclaw.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “Really? But she’s so loyal,” He argued.

Dean raised his pointer finger. “Yes, but as the story goes on, we see just how intelligent she is! Any idiot could have tried to leave Joffrey cause he’s a total dick, but she stayed close by because _strategically_ that was the best choice.”

“So are you saying Hufflepuffs aren’t strategic?” Castiel countered.

“No, I’m saying that Sansa’s choices as her character develops are making her more of a Ravenclaw,” Dean explained.

“Hmm,” Was all Castiel sounded in return.

“Hmm?” Dean echoed.

Castiel leaned a bit more over the table. “You make a good argument Dean Winchester,” He said, practically a murmur.

“Well I-” Dean started, trying to brush it off. His face was starting to feel slightly heated.

Castiel smirked in success and glanced across the room at the clock.

“It’s six o’clock,” He stated without any explanation.

“And?” Dean asked, searching for Castiel’s point.

“And you’re going to buy me dinner.” Castiel stated simply, as if it was a well known fact.

Almost as soon as Dean opened his mouth to argue, Castiel reached into his pocket and dangled Dean’s car keys in his hand.

Without a word, Castiel stood up and smirked at Dean before heading off in the direction of the parking lot.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dean cursed, before running outside to catch up.

He pushed through the glass door of the coffee shop, the small set of bells attached to the door signaling his goodbye.

He walked purposefully towards his car, noticing Castiel, who was leaning, arms crossed, against the driver's side of the Impala.

He looked like he came straight out of a James Dean cameo. Really, the only thing missing was a leather jacket to cover the man’s soft blue henley.

As he saw Dean, Castiel smiled the same smile he did countless times inside of the shop. It seemed strangely broken to Dean, as if Castiel was putting up a facade of true happiness. Sometimes that smile seemed to Dean to be barer than any desert he had ever seen, and yet, Dean understood it somehow. After all he’d been through, with his absent father and his brother who was miles away at school, Dean wasn’t completely sure that that wasn’t how his smiles looked too.

“Where to, Winchester?” Castiel asked, keeping the grin.

“For me? I’ve got to get to my job at a bar across town. For you?” Dean paused, noticing the way Castiel was eyeing him.

He was analyzing Dean slightly open mouthed, focusing too intently. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say that the guy was counting each and every one of his freckles.

Despite the fondness of Castiel’s gaze, Dean couldn’t help but notice the increasing disappointment that was evident in Castiel’s eyes as Dean spoke.

Dean sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up jaggedly in practically every direction.

“Look, now I can’t say that you haven’t been at least a little bit of a pain in my ass today, but you know what?” Dean said, pulling a pen and a piece of notebook paper out of his jacket pocket. “You seem to me to be more than just some asshole,” He started writing. “Hell, I guess at the end of the day, I’d say you’re alright,” He paused. “Intriguing, maybe?”

Castiel gave a warm smile. It was one of the most genuine Dean had seen from the man all day.

Dean laughed and handed the paper over to Castiel. “Here- If I’m going to have to blow you off for dinner, the least I can do is make you a drink. That’s the address of Singer’s Bar, across town.” Dean looked down, face getting hot. “You really should come.”

“Don’t you think that you should wait until after the first date to blow me off?” Castiel teased, his tone light, and when Dean looked back up, the man gave him a wink.

Dean let out an airy laugh with a shake of his head. “Shut up.” He paused, and couldn’t help but notice Castiel was full out _beaming_ at him. Really beaming at him in a way so beautiful, it could have put the fucking sun to shame.

“But you’ll come right?”

“Of course,” Castiel answered.

Dean smiled and Castiel calmly uncrossed his arms. He handed over the keys of the Impala and Dean’s drivers license, their fingers brushing softly.

Castiel walked away from the door of the Impala then, almost walking completely past Dean, when he stopped and set a heavy hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you tonight Dean,” Castiel said with a warmth Dean couldn’t help but notice was becoming more prominent in the man.

“Yeah,” Dean could barely get the words out. The moment he and Castiel were stuck in- it was so different than the events that transpired in the coffee shop. It felt more familiar, Castiel’s deep voice, the weight of his hand on Dean’s shoulder. There was so much resting there between them and then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Castiel lifted his hand from Dean’s shoulder, letting it trail slightly down Dean’s arm, before leaving completely, leaving Dean with nothing but silence and the slightest tingle from the memory of the touch.

\--------------------

The evening at Singer’s Bar couldn’t have been any slower.

Only half of the regulars showed up, and when they drank it was a drink an hour, followed by mountains of amusing personal discussions that Dean had no part in.

He ended up just staring down the cowboy themed clock that hung on the left wall, counting down the hours until his shift ended. He had almost two left, and yet, Castiel still hadn’t walked in. Dean would have thought that he’d catch sight of those eyes that kept the blue of daylight alive coming through the front door by now, but there was nothing.

“Hey Cowboy,” Dean whisked around to see his co-bartender, Jo, holding an empty keg. “Care to fill this one up? Budweiser. I can cover while you’re gone.”

Dean nodded, taking the absent weight of the keg away from Jo.

“Sure thing,” Dean answered and headed down to the basement to refill the keg.

His feet echoed as they hit the steps of the basement. The air was cool and Dean shivered slightly as he descended.

It was mostly dark the stairs only lit faintly by the light radiating from the door, but he knew his way down to the bottom well enough-thank God for that- and it kept him from falling.

He stepped of the last step, shimmying the keg in his arms as he reached for the chain of the light.

As he pulled down, the room was suddenly filled with a bright fluorescent light that burned Dean’s eyes, forcing him to squint.

He walked to the large barrel and plopped the empty keg under the barrel and flipped on the flow of the spout. The beer started trickling in, at first making empty tinish ripples on the metal bottom of the keg and later dissipating to just splashes.

Dean watched the keg, arms crossed, waiting for the beer to have reached the brim of the keg, just barely visible. When Dean noticed the shine of the liquid he quickly swapped off the facet and hefted the keg. He shifted the weight of it in his arms, his muscles already beginning to ache.

He took his time going back up the stairs, being beyond circumspectful to ensure he didn’t have any sort of clumsy accident. Dean had been there, done that, and quite frankly didn’t ever want to go there again.

He sneaked his way at last to the top of the staircase and wandered back towards the bar, the keg blocking most of his vision.

“Hey Jo! I filled it up,” Dean announced.

“She left just a little bit ago.”

When Dean heard that voice, he just about dropped the keg altogether.

“Cas?” Dean croaked, rushing to set down the keg behind the bar so that he could see it for himself, and, sure as day, there was Castiel, sitting on a middle bar stool, looking strangely amused.

“What are you laughing at?” Dean questioned.

“Oh, nothing,” Castiel replied nonchalantly.

Dean grunted and shot back sarcastically, “Is that right?”

Castiel leaned in over the counter. “That seems to be the question of the day, doesn’t it?”

Dean shrugged. “Guess so,” A moment passed. “So Cas, what can I get you?”

“A beer will be fine.”

Dean nodded and got to work. He choose their newest brew, “A Taste of Heaven”, filing the glass up with it until the pure white foam nearly reached the brim of the glass. He spun around, meeting Castiel with a smile and setting the glass down in front of him.

“Thank you,” Castiel said quietly.

“It’s no problem,” Dean held onto Castiel’s eyes for awhile. The blue had become so familiar over the course of the day, and those eyes’ ice cold surface had melted gradually into a summer ocean, engulfing Dean entirely.

Dean broke the gaze as he went off to tend to a few customers and couldn’t help but notice that Castiel didn’t look back for awhile. He was too preoccupied with the wooden countertop to pay much attention to anything but it and his beer.

It only took a couple minutes, albeit blisteringly long ones, tinted with quick glances in Castiel’s direction, before everyone had their drinks, and a couple others were leaving for the night.

Things had finally calmed down enough for Dean to give Castiel his full attention before his shift ended.

The man still was deliberately avoiding looking in Dean’s direction for whatever reason. It painfully contrasted with the way that, even just a few minutes earlier, their eyes skirted a graceful grace, always returning to center to focus on one another.

In general Castiel was just so strikingly different than he had been all day. Where there once was a surplus of ploys to get Dean’s attention now was a solemn silence, and nevertheless, it brought Dean in.

He grabbed a nearby bar stool and set it right in front of where Castiel was sitting. The clank of the wood stool against the wooden floor made him snap into attention and look up at Dean with wide eyes.

Dean looked back with a shy smile and sat down. “Talk to me.”

Castiel looked outright dubious at the statement, leaning a little back, as if he had no clue what Dean was talking about. “About what?”

Dean shrugged and settled his arms onto the counter. “You just seem so different here. Hours ago you were stealing my drivers license to get my attention, and all of a sudden you’ve gone to sulking in a bar.”

Castiel looked down, he might have thought he was being subtle about any change but if Dean’s observations were any indication, he didn’t succeed. “Do you ever feel the need to put on a mask? It doesn’t matter why, but sometimes you just need to make people see someone else?”

“I can’t say I have,” Dean said honestly, his eyes focusing even harder on Castiel’s features. The man looked so defeated.

Castiel let out a long sigh. “It’s fine. Not too many people do I suppose,” He paused before meeting Dean’s gaze. “I’m not always the asshole who pickpockets, you know?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth flitted up a small amount before he replied, “That’s kinda a relief, to be honest.”

Castiel gave a full laugh. “I like you Dean,” His face was lit up like a candle as he said it, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. “You make me want to stop wearing the mask. To be myself, whoever that may be.”

Dean nodded in understanding. “I’d like to see you Cas.”

Castiel smiled slightly, the hint of a laugh sneaking out. “You’re seeing me right now. I just- Sometimes I get so used to being “that guy” that I lose track of who I’m supposed to be.”

“That’s alright,” Dean answered before shrugging. “Who’s actually comfortable with who they are? No one, that’s who. But doesn’t make it a good enough reason to be someone else.”

“Yeah,” Castiel breathed.

Dean shifted his eyes towards the clock and clapped his hand on the counter.

“Alright guys. It’s last call. Take it or leave it,” Dean called out to the remaining patrons of the bar.

“Dean,” Castiel said softly, leaving his chair and meeting Dean’s eye’s with an open mouth. “I think I’m going to go.”

Dean didn’t say a thing, he just nodded, trying to disguise any disappointment that could even be detected in his face.

“I want to see you again,” Castiel stated, plain as day. And Dean couldn’t help but agree. There was something about this man, with his different sides and a smile to light up a whole town, that encaptured Dean against all odds.

“Me too,” He said simply and that brought back a smile to Castiel’s face.

Castiel leaned in over the counter, his face right next to Dean’s face.

“Something might await you in Westeros, Dean,” He whispered, and then he was gone.

It wasn’t until Dean was home again, flipping wildly through the pages of his book that he found a pressed paper that Castiel must’ve snuck in there, a phone number written neatly in a black pen. It was only after the rush of heartbeats, and the time it took to type in the 10 digit number in his phone, that he called.

\-----------

The Friday lights were whirling in the sky, and Dean hoped it wasn’t just from his nervousness.

He was standing outside of Roadhouse Coffee, leaning on the door of his Impala. He was clutching a bouquet of carnations tight in his hands. _Fascination. Huh?_   The lady at the flower shop said as she grabbed a bunch of red carnations. _Flowers can say things in more beautiful ways than you or I could even fathom._ And as she wrapped the flowers up beautifully, Dean only hoped that Castiel would get his message.

Almost on cue, Castiel’s tan pimpmobile pulled up next to the Impala, and Dean straightened up as Castiel stepped out of his own vehicle, decked out in jeans and a pressed blue button up.

“Looking good,” Dean said as Castiel made his way over to Dean, stepping into his space.

“Thank you. As do you,” A grin broke across Dean’s face and that’s when he remembered the flowers in his hands.

“Here,” He held out the bouquet. “I got these for you,”

“Carnations,” Castiel said, almost a whisper.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. So apparently flowers have meanings…,” He trailed off and looked down.

“What do these mean,” Castiel pondered.

Dean looked up and said the words with a notion of confidence. “Fascination. Or you could call it ‘being intrigued’.”

Castiel smiled so wide, it made his nose scrunch up in literally the cutest way and honestly, Dean couldn’t help but smile back.

The time around them had gone still and it wouldn’t be long before they wandered into the coffee shop, their mutual idea for a date, but right now, the stars were shining. Not only the stars in the sky, but there were constellations in their eyes. Constellations in imperfections too, and all that was left to do was to count those stars and know they were a miracle.


End file.
